If I Could Touch the Sun, I Would.

Sometimes I stand outside, stretch my arms, and try to touch the sun. The sky lasts forever– infinite. I’ll never reach what I’m aiming toward.

I wish my life were that way—infinite—but it’s not, and it never will be. 

I run down the beach with my friends, attempting to catch them. But their smiles fall like sand through my fingers. Soon they’ll be lost in the salty water, forever sloshing and splashing against the ocean floor. I’ll look for them in the fish and seaweed. Attempting to seek what is lost is like trying to remember a dream you thought happened. But it didn’t. 

You made it up. 

I never change my order at cafes. One day I hope the workers will ask if I want “the usual.” Glug, glug, glug, they pour oat milk into my coffee. When I realize that a new person takes my order every time, I start to wonder if they’re doing it on purpose. When will they recognize me? 

I drive down the same road every day. And yet, I always don’t remember it being this bumpy. Vroom, crunch, vroom, crunch. I was the last to get my license, so everyone already has their own cars. I never have a passenger. I wish someone would sit next to me. 

The car I drive was totaled in 2019, so my brakes creak and screech. When I make enough money to get another car, I’ll forget how many noises it makes. 

Memories of my past self are like tangled yarn. No matter how hard I pull, the knots never come undone. Yank, yank, yanking forever. 

I used to make friendship bracelets for people I loved; the string was kept in a small plastic bag. Now, the bracelets I received from others are in a blue container in a drawer, forever picking up dust. 

I dance on the edge of the mountain, the Griffith Observatory looming above me like an all-seeing being. My brain will forever stay there, squelching and squishing when people step on it. When I’m on the mountain, I tell my friends things I never told anyone. They’ve probably forgotten my secrets; but I’m still there, reaching out my empty hands. 

Now my friends are snow– melting upon my embrace. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter– 

The humidity turns them to water. 

The pavement soaks them up. 

I talk to strangers at parties because I know our goodbyes won’t be painful. In my mind, they’re simply fragments of my imagination. I feel like I can only be my true self around people I don’t know. 

Splat and trickle – Oops, my soda drops. I look around– everyone else is gone. I pick up the can, letting the carbonated beverage soak into the fabric of the rug. And I walk away, enervated. 

I’ll forever chase after the people I love, never knowing if I’ll see them again.